The buccaneer shrank back as if from some blow; his foot was withdrawn from the wounded officer’s chest, he lowered the point of his sword, and stood gazing at his prostrate enemy wildly.
“The captain shirks the job, lads,” cried a coarse voice. “Here, let me come.”
It was Black Mazzard who spoke, and, drunken with rum and the spirit of the furious fight, he pressed forward, axe in hand.
Humphrey raised himself a little higher, with his white teeth bared in fierce defiance as he prepared to meet the deathblow he saw about to fall.
But at that moment the buccaneer caught his lieutenant’s uplifted arm.
“Enough!” he cried, fiercely; “no more blood. He is no coward. Bart—Dinny, take this gentleman ashore.”
Humphrey Armstrong did not hear the words, for his defiant act exhausted his failing strength, and he fell back insensible to all that happened for many hours to come.